Ballade No 3 Rewritten
by duskglow
Summary: Pansy has an unusual request for Harry, with unexpected consequences. Companion piece to Chopin's Ballade No. 3. Warning: Lemon. Rewritten with a better lemon and better dialogue. Stronger M.


Disclaimer: I'm not making money. I'm not JK Rowling. I bet I write better sex scenes than her. :-)

Ballade #3

A/N and a warning: There is a lemon in this story. I tried to avoid being excessively explicit, but the lemon was **absolutely 100% necessary** for the story to proceed how I wanted. If this offends you, please stop reading now. If you're just in it for the explicitness, I don't know if you'll like this either – I tried to keep it at about the level of a cheesy romance novel. Nonetheless, if you want to read even given this warning, I hope you enjoy. This is a companion piece to Ballade #3 by Chopin.

Harry was eating lunch in the Great Hall, when felt someone's eyes on him.

He looked around the room, trying to find out who, and finally, across the room, he saw her. She was staring at him, almost gazing, with a thoughtful look on her face, tinged with sadness. She saw him returning her look, and dropped her head down, pinking a little. She ignored the students chattering around her.

Hermione noticed his look towards the Slytherin table, with a pensive look on his face.

"Everything all right, Harry?", she asked.

Harry turned to her. "I... don't know, honestly." He composed himself. "Have you studied for potions yet?"

And, with that clever bit of redirection accomplished, Harry was lost in thought as Hermione chattered about lacewing flies and the interaction of magical ingredients.

Sitting at the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson was lost in thought as well.

Pansy Parkinson was not beautiful. She knew that. Oh, sure, she was pretty by any standards, with long, black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a puggish face that nonetheless hid a cunning intelligence, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was not desirable in anyone's eyes. She sighed sadly to herself, knowing that her lot in life was to marry Draco Malfoy. Her parents had set up a contract to that effect with the Malfoys before she was born, and it was mostly ironclad. However, she was not attracted to him at all, in fact, she found the little silver-haired ponce somewhat repulsive. She was pretty sure he returned her feelings in that regard, as she had found him and Theodore Nott engaged in what appeared to be a rather passionate tryst in their common room when they thought no one else would be around. She shuddered. That was a memory she'd rather forget.

However, she knew that in a few years, she'd be married off, and that she would be forced to bear Malfoy's heir, and that her life was going to be the kind of life she would never choose for herself, and she hated it. She hated it, and she hated Malfoy, and her parents for putting her in that situation in the first place. She may not be the most beautiful girl, and her parents may have knocked out every bit of self-esteem they could so that she would make a good pureblood wife, but somehow she knew that her body had power anyway, and she was going to use it. She made up her mind, and with a pleasant shiver of anticipation, and a little slickness between her thighs, she grabbed a parchment and some paper and began writing.

The next morning, Harry was sitting at his usual place in the Great Hall, eating his breakfast, when a piece of paper appeared on his plate. He picked it up and read it. He looked up at Pansy and nodded.

She smiled.

That evening, after dinner, Harry waited for Pansy in the entrance hall outside of the Great Hall, and they went outside. She guided him to a convenient bench and they sat down.

"Parkinson", he said.

"Potter", she said, then looked down. "May I call you Harry?"

"Why?", he said. "You and your friends have done nothing but harass me ever since I started here! What right would you possibly have to assume that kind of familiarity with me?"

She lowered her head.

"You're right, Ha-Potter. I'm sorry."

He nodded. "What do you want?"

"Direct as usual, I see. Typical Gryffindor."

Harry's face contorted and he stood up. She grabbed his arm. "No, no, sit down. I didn't mean it that way. Well, I did, but... I didn't want... These things... these things are hard to get past."

He sat back down. "What do you want, Parkinson? No games. I'm not as Gryffindor as I seem."

She nodded. "No games. I promise."

He looked her in the eyes. He could see no malice and no deceit. Just a kind of vulnerability that he didn't expect to see in the eyes of that particular Slytherin. She was... sad.

"Alright. But I ask you again. What do you want?"

She lowered her head, and was quiet. Finally, quietly, she spoke.

"I don't want it to be like this."

"Like what?"

"I'm supposed to marry that little ponce Malfoy. He doesn't like me and I don't like him. I know that when I marry him, he won't want me. He'll sire a son and then never touch me again – except for to hit me. I fear he is going to follow in the footsteps of his father. I still support the ideology, but that doesn't mean I like the way he treats his enemies. Or even his friends."

A tear threatened to leak down her cheek, and she allowed it to. She turned her face to him, imploring him to understand, to listen to the question she was asking him, to accept the precious gift she was offering him – a boy she didn't know, but felt she could trust.

"He's cruel, Potter. He's cruel, vindictive, and mean. I don't want this. I want nothing to do with this. But I have a marriage contract. I can't get out of it. My life is going to be miserable and horrible the moment he gets his hands on me. And it will never stop until one of us dies."

She lowered her head.

"Honestly, Potter. It'll be him - but only if he doesn't get to me first. Once I bear his heir, I will be of no further use to him."

Harry nodded and waited for her to continue. He wrung his hands nervously. Where was she going with this?

"But I do have choices, Potter. I get to choose who will be my first. And I don't want it to be him. I don't want his touch to be the only touch I remember. I don't want his body to be the only one I've had inside me. This is my choice, Potter. I want my own choice. Please. For the first and only time in my life, I want my own choice. I want my own pleasure."

She lowered her head, and pinked a little.

"M-Make love to me, Potter. Please. Please give me pleasure. Please help me forget"

He looked at her, really looked at her. He dove in through her eyes, and past her eyes, into her very soul, and still saw no deceit. All he saw was a desperately lonely girl, who was being forced into a life she didn't want, and he took pity on her. Many different things were running through his head. As an alive male he did notice her womanly curves and was very intrigued. He knew that this would be a really good way to take something from Malfoy that he desperately wanted, right out from under his nose, and he also knew that he could not resign this horribly lonely girl to her fate without giving her something pleasurable to remember. He was a male, but he was still noble at heart, and he would not have done it if it were _entirely_ selfish.

But it was a little selfish. He knew that she knew it. He also knew that she had her own reasons for asking, and was alright with that, as she was being a little selfish as well. He made up his mind.

"Why me, Parkinson?", he asked, curiously, and with a little nervousness in his voice.

She thought, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her robes. Finally she looked up, straight into his eyes.

"Because you're Harry bloody Potter", she said, with a little venom in her voice. "He hates you. He really hates you. And I hate him. And I can't think of any way to spit in his face more viciously than for you to be my first time. I'll tell him on my wedding night, Potter. I'll compare him to you. I'll tell him how much bigger you are, how much better you are, how much more pleasure you gave me. I'll rub it in his face until the day one of us dies."

Harry nodded. He could understand.

But then, unexpectedly, she lowered her head. And she murmured, softly. "And because, Potter, I want to be made love to, rather than fucked. And I don't know anyone else in this school who would be as tender as you. I want to know what it feels like, for once in my life, to be loved, Potter. Please love me." She looked up, and the vulnerability in her eyes was so intense that his heart broke.

Without a word he stood up. She looked dejected, until he offered her his hand. Her eyes widened, and she took his hand and allowed him to help her up. There was a tingle between her legs. She was really going to do this.

"Lead the way.", he said, and without a word, she did, her breath coming quickly and shallowly.

They found an unused classroom, and after entering, she locked the door with a colloportus spell, and then turned and looked at him. There was a gleam in her eye that she hadn't seen before, but it was still mixed with sadness.

"Be gentle, Potter", she said, quietly. "It's my first time."

Harry looked surprise. "What?", she said, a little sourly. "Did you think it was just orgies in Slytherin house? We take care of our own", she said. Then she quietly added "though sometimes people are… unlucky. But I can take care of myself!", she said, a bit too defensively.

He smiled. "I'm sure you can. May I call you Pansy now?"

She nodded. "If I can call you Harry".

He nodded as well. "So, Pansy… I"

She spontaneously mashed her mouth against his, shutting him up, the raw need bubbling up and overflowing. They tasted each other, lust building, the pressure in his loins growing even as the wetness in hers did. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his snaked around the small of her back, holding each other close. Finally, after a long minute, she came up for air, not losing eye contact.

"Wow", she said, breathlessly.

"Wow indeed", he said, still catching his breath as well.

Suddenly, she drew close to him, and he felt her chest heave as one tear leaked out, then another. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening, two tears trailing down her cheek. He wiped off the tears with the back of his hand, and she leaned softly into his touch. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and she whispered "Please, Harry. Love me. Pretend to love me. Just… please. Take it away. Just for a bit. Make me forget. Please, Harry". He could feel her surrendering, as something inside of her gave.

He just eased her head against his chest and stroked her hair. She sobbed quietly. After a minute, she looked back up, eyes glistening. With a bit of a shiver, she disentangled herself from him and stepped back.

She looked him right in the eyes, and unclasped her robe.

It fell to the ground.

She was now wearing absolutely nothing. Her whole body pinked as she stood in front of him, completely vulnerable.

Harry's breath hitched. "You're beautiful, Pansy", he said in wonder, as he traced a finger down her collarbone. She shivered and the air began smelling of her arousal. She moved closer to him, picked up his hand, and put it on her rear end.

"You can touch, Harry. In fact, please, touch me. As much as you want". Her eyes closed as she felt his fingers on her butt, leaving little tingles and trails of fire behind as he slowly explored her.

"Oh, Harry. That feels… wonderful.", she purred. Suddenly she became aware of something pressing into her front. She giggled. "What's this?", she said, and he blushed, "I-I", he stammered.

Her eyes smoldered. "I want to see", she whispered, and slowly undid his robe. He didn't stop her. She saw his too-large clothing, and her eyes flicked up.

Harry sighed.

"It's a long story, Pansy. I'll tell you if you want. But please, you standing here naked in front of me is driving me crazy".

She nodded and helped him out of his clothes. She gasped as the evidence of his arousal popped out. It was not a particularly amazing specimen, but it was hers, at least tonight, and she was pleased. She touched it with a finger and was fascinated at his reaction – it was like it had a mind of its own. She had never seen one before, and it was amazing.

His breath hitched and he started trembling a little bit. "That feels... amazing", he said, rather huskily.

She knelt down. His eyes went half lidded as she smiled, and then licked him.

Harry knew pleasure. Every time she moved or touched him he seemed to groan louder - it was intoxicating having all of this power over him. She whispered throatily, "The great Harry Potter… the savior of the wizard world… brought to a mewling mess with just a touch", and she touched a particular spot that made him gasp, "of my finger".

"Pansy…", he gasped. "This is… I feel… I can't… ohhhhhhhhhh", he finally said, having been reduced to having no words, just primal, animal _need_.

"Do you want me, Harry? Tell me what you want to do to me."

"I want… to… see… you… scream!", he said, and with a long, low, protracted moan, his hips bucked, and his desire for her was expressed in a very sticky and messy way. She stayed right on him, extracting every little bit of pleasure she could, and eventually he collapsed to his knees, and put his hands on the floor.

She took her wand and cleaned herself off, and he took a minute or two to recover.

"That was... that was"... he gasped, not even having words. "Better than I ever thought possible. You were wonderful, Pansy".

She smiled, amazed at the fact that she was able to elicit that reaction in him. Finally after collecting his thoughts, he took his own wand, and conjured a mattress. She allowed herself to be guided down to the mattress, and he took stock of her, a vision with her black hair splayed out, her legs spread, every bit of her exposed to him, and a look in her eyes of utter wanton lust.

He knelt down next to her, and whispered into her ear "What do you want me to do to you, Pansy?", his breath tickling her ear, making her squirm.

Her eyes half closed, and the smell of her arousal was strong.

"Tell me, Pansy. Tell me what you want me to do to you!", he whispered, intensely.

Pansy shivered. She had never been so… vulnerable before. She felt completely naked, desired under his gaze.

"I want you to ravage me, Harry", she whispered, almost mewled". I want you to take my body and do anything you want to it. I want you to make me scream. I want… ohhhhhh", she lost words as his fingertips finally started caressing a very, very sensitive part of her body. "I want you to keep doing _that_ ", she said, her breathing becoming ragged. "That… feels… incredible."

As his fingers danced around, his kisses started with her lips, and then trailed kisses down her body, his hot breath tickling her oversensitive skin. She was so aroused by this point she was almost insensate - nothing existed but him, his touch, his breath, his mouth. Her eyes were closed, her fingers grasping nothing, her body writhing with indescribable pleasure. And yet, somehow… she felt him climb on top of her, and without words, without anything, with only instinct, she guided him in. He looked at her questioningly. She smiled.

"I ride horses, Harry."

And he _moved_. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and it was like a fire erupted inside her. "Oh Harry don't stop doing that don't ever stop oh Merlin oh Merlin that is so good", she wasn't even aware of what she was saying as the words just tumbled out, out of her conscious control, and she _lost herself_ and there was nothing but him and his smell and his touch and his...

For his part, he'd never felt anything so good in his life… her legs wrapped around his, seemingly of their own accord, her arms wrapped around his back, and there was nothing but him and her and the dance that lovers had danced since humans began.

Finally, reduced to incomprehensible moaning, her breathing became shallow and fast, the moans became shorter and more insistent, and with the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard, the fire inside her _exploded_ , and having lost all conscious control of her muscles, she twitched and bucked and clenched around him so tightly that he couldn't help but to release his white fire into her.

A soft, golden glow encompassed both of them as her spasms slowly receded, and their exhausted, sweat-soaked, sated bodies finally untangled from each other.

One minute after that, they were laying side by side, as he caressed her face, awash in the glow of good sex. They touched foreheads, and the both of them were awash with the most wonderful feeling of peace that either had experienced. In his eyes, she was literally the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and all she wanted to do was bury her head in his chest and sleep. She felt so so safe.

"Oh Harry", she said, her heart still calming down, "That was the most wonderful thing ever. It was... I don't even have words. Thank you", she said, and was surprised to note that the gratitude came from the very core of her being. At least for now, something inside of her had been completed. It was such a good feeling. She felt loved, for the first time in her life.

She touched his nose. "You made me scream, lover."

"Pansy", he asked quietly, as he gently stroked her face gently. "What was that golden glow?"

Her eyes went wide. "Golden glow?", she said, breathless.

"Didn't you see it?"

"I was kind of busy, you prat, as you were giving me the most intense... ooo", she said, shivering as she remembered. "Do you know what a golden glow means?"

"No, what does it mean?"

She smiled, the widest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen on her face, and her eyes danced with joy... real joy, absolute joy, the joy of someone who had just been rescued from the worst fate imaginable.

"It means we're married!"

"Married?"

"Married!" she said, and suddenly she started sobbing, real sobs, but sobs of triumph and joy. "Oh Harry, thank you thank you thank you, I know it's sudden and I had no idea it would happen and I'm sorry but it's amazing and finally I don't have to marry the ponce and I love you Harry, oh I love you I love you I love you thank you thank you", she said, babbling almost incoherently as she pulled him tightly to her, sobbing with joy and relief.

If Harry were to be honest, he wasn't too happy with the situation – it was sudden and he felt a little manipulated. But there was a beautiful girl next to him whom he thought he could grow to love, so he decided to take her at her word that she didn't mean it, and that while they had to have a very long, civil, and gentle talk soon about what all of this meant, right now he was going to enjoy a little more time with his... wife.

A/N

So Chopin's Ballade #3 has always evoked this kind of a scene to me. There is a pensive part that goes into a minor key with running notes in the bass, turning into a frankly erotic scene with triple-octave G sharps in the right hand, turning into a fairly interesting restatement of one of the main themes. Then.. it goes into something quiet and pensive, and turning into triumph, ending with a signature four note cadence that I'm not sure is actually in any other pieces in the repertoire.

That is why the story turned out how it did. I was truly trying to capture the mood of that piece. That's also why the lemon was needed. I could not have written it how I wanted without it.

I consider this an M for two reasons. 1) I tried to limit myself to descriptions of the effects of an act rather than the actual act itself, and 2) I've seen far, far worse stories allowed to stay here even after reporting them. So, we'll see.

Maybe someday I will write more, regarding the fallout from their marriage. But for now, I think I'll mark it complete.

So, with that said, I hope you enjoyed. I hope I got across what I wanted to. Thanks for reading.


End file.
